


What the Cat Dragged In

by FrenchRoast



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Veterinary Clinic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:16:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchRoast/pseuds/FrenchRoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cat decides to visit the pawnshop. Just as Mr. Gold is beginning to get used to the cat, it disappears, and he begins to worry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oppurrtunity Makes a Thief

The bell on the door of Mr. Gold’s pawn shop jingled as it opened. Upon hearing the sound as he sat eating his lunch, he put down the chicken sandwich and got up to see who was calling on him now. It was Saturday, his busiest day, and he’d already had five customers that morning.

But when he entered the front of the shop, no one was there. Unusual. Mr. Gold walked over to the front door; it was slightly ajar. Someone had come in. He whirled around quickly.

“Who’s there?” he asked in as menacing a voice he could muster (which was quite menacing). “I’ll have you know I’m armed.”

“Mrow?” came a cry behind the counter. Then, a chirping sound, and a clinking sound of something metal being moved. Mr. Gold leaned over the counter to see what was causing the peace of his previously quiet store to be disturbed. Staring up at him was a small, fluffy black cat.

“A cat? How’d you get in here?” Mr. Gold wondered, but the answer was obvious; the cat had come in through the front door. He must not have shut it securely when he closed for lunch. “You can’t stay in here, cat.”

In response, the cat batted at a pair of nickels that must have been dropped from the register at some point.

“No, you have to go.” Mr. Gold walked around to that side of the counter to pick up the cat, but the cat sprang onto the countertop, then took off for the back room. When Mr. Gold caught up to the cat, it was already chewing on his chicken sandwich.

“That’s MINE,” Mr. Gold said, shooing the cat off the table. Looking down at his sandwich, he sighed at the loss until he realized he could use it. He picked up the sandwich and held it out above the cat’s head. “Yeah, you like the sandwich, kitty? You can have the rest of it, but you can’t have it in here. Come on,” he said, leading the cat out the front of the shop. He opened the front door, and tossed the chicken sandwich just in front of the shop. The cat, clearly hungry, darted out of the shop and towards the sandwich. Gold shut the door and locked it, pleased at having dispatched with the intruder, even if it did mean relinquishing his sandwich; he could afford another.

As he watched the cat make quick work of the sandwich, he began to feel sorry for it. It was clearly a clever cat if it could open a door, and now that he was paying attention, the cat’s fur was kind of scruffy looking. Clearly the cat was hungry, too. He almost wished he hadn’t shooed it away, but reminded himself that he had no business taking on a pet these days. Besides, surely the cat was just curious? Cats were supposed to be curious, after all. He turned from the window and went to the back to hunt down some crackers and a pot of tea to stand in for the lunch he’d given the cat.

Late the next morning, coffee in hand, Mr. Gold walked up to the front door of his shop. Sitting there, right in front of the door, was the black cat from the day prior.

“Back for more? You’re going to be sadly disappointed,” Mr. Gold said as he unlocked the door. “No sandwiches today. “ He opened the door and the cat darted inside before he could stop it. The cat jumped up onto the counter and began to paw at the unicorns and shiny metal and glass pieces dangling from the baby mobile that hung from the ceiling.

“No, you little magpie,” Mr. Gold scolded. “I can’t have you breaking that just because you like shiny things.” He picked up the cat and unceremoniously dumped it outside. It walked off, nonchalant as fuck. But when noon arrived, it had returned to the sidewalk in front of the pawn shop. Mr. Gold sighed at the sight of the cat through the window.

“Maybe it just wants food,” he thought aloud. But he didn’t have anything appropriate for a cat today; he’d only come in to do some bookkeeping he’d forgotten to deal with the day before, so he had no lunch. If only cats liked tea; he had plenty of that. Mr. Gold went to the mini fridge to see if he had anything else, but there was just a couple bottles of water and a carton of milk for his tea.

Wait. _Milk_. Of course.

He found a chipped teacup and filled it with milk, which he then carefully carried out front. The cat was waiting on him.

“This is for you,” he said, setting the teacup down. The cat walked over to the cup and sniffed it cautiously. But hunger overcame the cat and its caution, and it began to lap up the milk.

“Don’t get used to this,” Mr. Gold cautioned the little black cat. “I can’t be feeding you every day. This is just a one—er, two—time thing.”

It wasn’t.

The next day, Gold was careful to pack an extra couple slices of ham along with his ham sandwich. The day after that, he brought a larger-than-normal serving of beef stew, the extra portion going into the chipped teacup. The cat always managed to sneak inside once the door opened, and immediately started batting at whatever shiny object was within easy reach. After pulling the cat away from a shiny dagger he really shouldn’t have had sitting out on the counter in the first place, Mr. Gold began calling the cat Magpie. Not that he was naming the cat; he just didn’t want to keep calling it “the cat.” That was all.

Towards the end of the week, Mr. Gold stopped by the store on the way to work and picked up a quart of half & half and three tins of tuna. He took a spoon from a set of silverware he’d recently polished, and placed it in front of the till.

But when noon came around on this day, the cat didn’t.

“It’s for the best,” Gold told himself after waiting all afternoon for Magpie to show up. “I was getting tired of feeding that cat anyway.”

But when Magpie didn’t show up for lunch the next day, he began to worry. Had something happened to the cat? He called the animal shelter, but they hadn’t picked up any black cats that week. All day, he tried to push thoughts of the cat away, but when rain clouds started to gather around four o’clock, he couldn’t do it any longer. He closed the pawn shop early and began looking for Magpie.


	2. Oppurration Magpie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold gets some help as he hunts for Magpie.

Mr. Gold started his search behind the pawn shop, hoping that the little black cat had simply discovered a new entrance to beg at. But a thorough search (under the stairs, under his car—even opening the hood to check the engine, because he remembered someone telling him that cats liked car engines sometimes) revealed nothing of Magpie. All he found were a few creepy crawlies living under the back stairs that he could’ve done without meeting.

He realized he had to widen the search.

He kept a lookout as he walked into town, occasionally calling out “here kitty kitty!” as loudly as he dared. He startled Granny as she came out from the back of the diner to dump trash into the dumpster in the alley.

When she realized it was Gold and not one of those little street urchins hunting for scraps, she was slightly taken aback. “Never thought I’d see you dumpster diving,” she commented as she hefted a garbage bag into the dumpster.

Mr. Gold ignored the intended snark.

“You haven’t seen a black cat around lately, have you? One that likes shiny things, a little scruffy looking?"

Granny shook her head. “No, and if I had, I’ve have had Ruby chase it away. I don’t like strange creatures scrounging through the garbage—too much of a mess to clean up after.”

With no sign of Magpie in the spot he had considered the most likely, Gold continued to widen his search. Thunder cracked in the distance as he checked around the town hall, the Rabbit Hole, the school (where Henry joined him, calling the search “Oppurration Magpie”)—but nothing. The sky began to sprinkle as they reached the closed library, and that sprinkling rapidly became a heavy rain. That was when Henry gave up the search; his mother the Mayor showed up and dragged him away, griping about head colds.

Gold stood in front of the library, wondering if he should even bother looking anymore. There were a million places for a cat to disappear, even in a town as small as Storybrooke.

“That wee cat probably has a cozy nook somewhere I’ll never find,” he said. He looked at the library door; according to the lettering on the window, it was supposed to be open for another hour, but Gold couldn’t remember it ever being open to begin with. “Or,” he said, knowing he was just trying to reassure himself, “that little devil might be waiting back at the shop. Cats are contrary like that.” He left the front and walked around to the back of the library, still talking to himself.

“In fact, I’m sure that’s exactly where the ridiculous creature is. That cat is probably laughing at my foolish rush to go find it and get caught in this ghastly weather,” Mr. Gold declared to the rain puddle next to his left foot. And he was sure, until he saw the dark pile of fur under the remnants of a cardboard box that was already sagging from the weight of the rain. The box was leaning against the fence that ran alongside the sidewalk, just beyond the library building itself.

Gold shrieked at the sight of that limp, black body. He ran to it as quickly as he could and threw the box aside.

It was Magpie.

“No, no no,” Mr. Gold said over and over. He reached out carefully to touch Magpie’s fur.

Magpie looked up at him. Questioning. It was as though the cat was thoroughly surprised to see Mr. Gold somewhere other than his pawn shop, the same way children are taken aback when they see their teachers somewhere that isn’t their school.

“You’re alive!” Mr. Gold shouted, and he quickly scooped the bedraggled black furball into his arms. Magpie was soaking wet, but alive. He situated the cat so he could carry it with one arm, but Magpie protested loudly.

“Shush, Magpie,” he told the cat. He started to pet the seemingly-annoyed cat with his free hand. Then Gold realized that his hand was sticky. And red.

Magpie was bleeding.

“I need a doctor!” Gold yelled, but there was no one out there in the rain to hear him. He began to run towards the hospital. Dr. Whale was there. He would take Magpie to the ER, and everything would be fine. Hospitals fixed sick people all the time, after all.

“Mrrrowl,” Magpie half meowed, half growled as Gold began to sprint towards the hospital.

He had gone just over a block when David (who was walking the opposite direction) stopped him.

“Gold, are you okay?”

“Of course I’m not okay,” Gold snapped as he continued past David. “This cat needs a doctor, and the hospital is four more blocks away.”

“The hospital? Gold, the vet clinic is just down Castle Street, one block over.”

“I don’t need a vet clinic, I need a doctor for this cat! Why would I take it to the vet clinic?”

David bit his lip to hold back a chuckle; he knew it wasn’t the right moment. Later. Later he would laugh at the utter ridiculous of a grown man planning to take his cat to the hospital for treatment. For now, there was a cat in some kind of trouble, and he could help get it to the right people.

“Uh…because veterinary clinics have animal doctors, otherwise known as veterinarians?”

“Magpie is no mere animal!” Gold said indignantly. “How dare you suggest such a thing.” He looked down at Magpie, who had inexplicably started to purr.

“Magpie? Is that the cat’s name?” David asked. “I promise you, Dr. French is great with cats. She completely saved Marco’s cat Figaro after the Mother Superior ran over him with her bike last summer.”

“She did what?!” Mr. Gold had heard nothing of this. What the hell kind of nun ran over poor defenseless cats? Only a sociopath, surely. He resolved immediately to revoke their lease if they ever gave him the slightest excuse to do so.

David realized the expression on Gold’s face had become even more disturbed than it had been before he mentioned Figaro. Not the effect he was going for.

“It was an accident. Figaro’s fine. Good as new. You should take Magpie to Dr. French. Whatever’s wrong, she’ll figure it out. She’s a really great vet.”

“Are you sure?” Mr. Gold asked, still uncertain.

David nodded, and took a moment to really look at the two creatures before him. Gold was totally drenched, with rainwater dripping down his hair, which gave him a scraggledy appearance. No one in Storybrooke would’ve believed this was the same man who lorded over half the land encompassing the town. Everyone thought the thing he loved most was money.

Perhaps they had misjudged him.

“Come on. I’ll help you find the clinic. She should still be there; she has office hours for another half hour at least.”


	3. In Like a Lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold gets Magpie to Dr. French with minutes to spare...

Levar stared down the clock on the wall as he finished the file on Pongo, who’d just left with Archie. 4:46pm. Fourteen minutes until closing, and there were still 3 patients waiting to see Dr. French: Rufus, Bianca Bernard’s elderly cat who had a 4:45 appointment; Louise Carroll’s ginger tabby (a walk-in with a winky eye, probably due to tangling with Louise’s white rabbit if the two prior incidents were any clue); and Copper, Mr. Hunt’s bloodhound, who was finally being released from a 10-day quarantine after a run-in with a wild fox.

Levar popped a homemade spinach puff into his mouth. He was so glad he’d brought the rest of that batch with him at lunchtime instead of leaving them to cool on his kitchen counter. It had been a long day, but good food helped. It would’ve been more help if Lilo the vet tech had been there; with her out, Levar had to cover the desk and help Dr. French with the more unruly animals.

“Just three more simple patients, Levar,” he told himself. He drew in a deep, slow breath. Levar hadn’t even exhaled when Mr. Gold burst into the lobby of the Storybrooke Veterinary Clinic.

“I need a doctor! My cat is bleeding!” He was in a full panic, and he was getting water everywhere to boot.

Levar could almost hear a small voice to his left scolding him for jinxing himself, but he ignored it and ran around from behind the desk.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know! The cat didn’t show up for lunch, then I couldn’t find it, and then I did but there’s blood and dirt and I don’t know how to fix it. Where’s the doctor? It’s an emergency!”

Levar quickly opened the door to the exam room that he’d just finished prepping for Rufus. After ushering Mr. Gold and the wretched-looking black cat in, he left them just as quickly to page Dr. French.

“Uh, Dr. French, we have a, uh, feline emergency in exam room 2,” Levar announced over the intercom. Wherever she was, Dr. French would hear. “Folks, the wait may be a little longer than anticipated, I do apologize.” He grabbed an intake sheet and a pen before running back to the exam room. Mr. Gold was still clutching the black cat tightly, as though loosening his grip would loosen the cat’s grip on life.

“Where’s. the. doctor?” Mr. Gold’s tone was turning more towards anger now that he’d had a few moments to really let circumstances sink in. "Charming told me there was a doctor here. He left out the part where I'd be interrogated by a giant."

Levar ignored the comment, chalking it up to stress. He was almost pleased, actually. He'd been working out more, and it was nice someone noticed his bigness.“She’s coming, any minute. Until she gets here, let me get some info on your cat. Name?”

“Magpie.”

“Sex?”

“How am I supposed to know if the cat’s had sex? I don’t even know if Magpie’s a boy cat or a girl cat!”

“Ooookay,” Levar said. “Age?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Gold said. Levar could almost hear the hope draining from him as they waited on Dr. French. “I don’t know anything about the cat other than it likes my food, it likes shiny things, and it’s bleeding!”

The back door of the exam room swung open as Mr. Gold said “bleeding” and Dr. French appeared. She’d already pulled her chestnut hair back into a half-bun to get it out of her face. She always wore it that way during surgeries. She looked at Levar first. “Copper can go back to Mr. Hunt. Go on and deal with that while I see what the situation here is.” Levar handed her the intake sheet he’d been filling out and got up to go deal with Copper.

“And tell him to keep Copper’s shots updated going forward!” she yelled as the door closed behind Levar.

Now she turned to Gold and his black cat. “What’s going on with your cat?”

“I don’t know. I already told your giant that. Magpie’s bleeding, that’s how I found the cat. “

“Magpie’s his name?” she asked as she took Magpie from Mr. Gold. Magpie made a brief yowl of protest, but soon settled down on the towel Levar had laid on the exam table.

“I don’t know if the cat’s a he or a she, but Magpie is what I’ve been calling it. Because it likes shiny things,” he explained as Dr. French examined Magpie. “Please, Dr. French, you have to fix whatever’s happened to Magpie. I’ll pay for it. I don’t care how much it costs.”

Dr. French looked up from Magpie and took in the sight of Mr. Gold upon this declaration. He had dripped water all over the exam room; his wet clothes clung to his body in an exceedingly satisfying way. And despite the general town consensus that he was an unfeeling bastard, he clearly loved this cat. As she held Magpie, Gold was standing on the other side of the exam table, stroking Magpie’s head.

Without saying anything, she turned her attention back to Magpie and continued the exam, now checking for broken bones. She had to figure out where the bleeding he kept talking about was coming from, but most of it was on him, not the cat. Possibly the rain had washed it off? Dr. French felt Magpie’s belly to see if she could feel anything wrong internally. Gold might have been petting Magpie, but his attention was laser-focused on the vet’s hands. 

After taking another tense minute to confirm her diagnosis, she looked up.

“I think I have good news, good news, and bad news.”

Gold looked down at Magpie, who was so calm now. He met Dr. French’s gaze.

“So what’s the good news, Dr. French?”

Dr. French smiled. “I can tell you I’m about 99 percent certain that Magpie will be alright.”

Gold nearly collapsed onto the exam table himself when he heard the word “alright.” He hunched over Magpie, do the best he could to approximate a hug. He kept that position as he asked what was wrong with Magpie.

“That’s the other good news,” Dr. French told him. “There’s nothing wrong with Magpie at all. But she is having kittens.”

Now Gold picked himself up from his hunched over position. “She’s…what?”

“Kittens! I’d say about 3, give or take one. And the first should be arriving any minute. We should get her settled somewhere more warm and secure.”

Without hesitation, Mr. Gold whipped off his suit jacket, ready to give it to Magpie; Dr. French stopped him.

“That’s going to be too wet. Magpie’s already got a towel, but she’s going to want something with walls.” She opened the door to the front of the clinic. “LEVAR! PULL SOME MORE TOWELS AND A TOP-LOADING CARRIER!”

A few minutes passed.

“You’re going to have kittens, Magpie!” Gold beamed. “You’re going to be a mama cat!”

Magpie ignored him and chose to bestow the favor of her gaze upon the silvery pen Dr. French had set down atop the intake sheet. Gold followed her line of sight, then grabbed the pen.

“You want this?”

“Mrow!”

He set the pen down next to Magpie. She curled around to rest her chin upon it, claiming it.

“There goes my pen,” Dr. French remarked in mock sadness. “You’d be surprised how many of those I go through, but I think this is the first one that’s going to be walking out of here because the cat wanted it.”

A few more minutes passed, but instead of Levar, David appeared with a towel and a cat carrier in hand.

“Levar’s getting Bianca and Louise situated in the other rooms. I told him I’d man the fort, so to speak, since I used to help out around here.”

Dr. French nodded her thanks, as did Gold. Dr. French took the towel and carrier from David, placing the towel inside, then popping open the top of it.

“Mr. Gold, do want to put her in, or would you rather I do it?”

“You do it. I don’t want to hurt the kittens.” Gold stepped back from Magpie to make room for Dr. French to set the carrier down next to Magpie.

“Kittens?!” David’s face lit up. “Congrats!" 

Dr. French gently slid her hands underneath Magpie to lift her, then set her down just as carefully into the carrier.

“Mrrrow?” Magpie meowed, unsure what was happening (in more way than one). The vet reattached the top of the carrier, then snuck an indulgent glance at Mr. Gold. With his suit jacket off, his dress shirt stuck to him in an even more pleasing manner. She closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself.

_Get a grip, Belle. He’s a client._

_A very **hot** client._

_I have to be professional._

**_Do you?_ ** _You haven’t been on a date since I can’t remember when._

“Mr. Gold, since Magpie’s in no danger after all, I hope you don’t mind if I go ahead and attend to the other patients? If we’re lucky, she’ll have the first kitten before I’m back.”

Mr. Gold nodded, but he hadn’t really heard her. He was staring into Magpie’s cage, transfixed. Dr. French started to exit the exam room.

“Wait! What if something goes wrong?”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Gold. It’s a very natural process. Magpie knows what to do. It might look a little gross soon, but she can handle it.”


	4. Kitty Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold admits how much Magpie means to him, and Dr. French makes a deal with him.

Gold spent the next thirty or so minutes alternating between pacing and petting Magpie. She seemed fine, but his nerves were shot. The ups and downs of the afternoon were not what he had expected when he started sharing his lunch with this bold little cat. The cat’s pregnancy did explain why she stole that first sandwich, though.

Finally, he could hear Dr. French and Levar closing up the clinic. For a moment, Gold worried they’d forgotten all about him and Magpie. Almost as though she had read his mind, Dr. French opened the door to the exam room. She peered inside Magpie’s carrying cage.

“We’ve got one!”

“We do?” How had he missed it? Wasn’t childbirth—er, kittenbirth supposed to be painful? “Are you sure? She’s been purring the whole time."

“Yep,” she confirmed, pointing at a tiny black ball of slimy fur. “It’s an easier process for cats than it is for people.”

“Huh.”

Dr. French pulled the top of the carrier off again. She did a quick check of Magpie’s eyes and felt her tummy. “Her vitals look good. She should be fine, but you’ll want to be careful taking her home. Try not to tote her around too much.”

Mr. Gold nodded. “I can assure you, no harm will come to Magpie under my watch.”

“When you get her home, find a quiet, dark place where she’ll feel safe. Warm is good. If you’ve got one, the corner of a walk-in closet would be best. A laundry room can work, but you have to be extra careful not to let the kittens get mixed into the wash.”

“What? Why would kittens get into the wash? Wouldn’t that drow…oh no.” A horrified look washed over Gold’s face as he realized what the veterinarian was trying to help prevent.

“Just…avoid the laundry room if you can.”

“I send almost everything to the dry cleaner’s as it is. Maybe I’ll get rid of my washer and dryer. Should I get rid of them?”

Dr. French laughed. “No, keep your appliances, Mr. Gold; just keep the kittens out of them. I’m sure you can manage that. The important thing is that Magpie stays in familiar surroundings where she feels safe. You don’t want her to relocate the kittens to somewhere you won’t be able to find them.” She scritched between Magpie’s ears; Magpie closed her eyes, enjoying the scritches.

“Would they be better off staying in my shop? That’s where she kept showing up.”

“Wait. This isn’t your cat?” Dr. French snapped the carrier closed.

“I don’t think she’s anyone’s cat, doctor. She just started coming ‘round my shop, and after she stole a sandwich, I started feeding her. Then she stopped coming, so I went looking for her. She was under a wet cardboard box when I found her.”

“So probably a stray, then.”

“If she isn’t, then I intend to string up whoever her owner is for their negligence,” he informed her. He bent down to pet Magpie through the metal grate of the carrier. The furrow of his brow betrayed how upset he was at the thought of someone neglecting this cat.

“I’d be inclined to help you.”

“But,” he said, returning to the real issue of where to take Magpie, “I know she likes the pawn shop. Particularly the back room where I eat my lunch.”

“I’m sure if you put a box in a corner of that room, that would be fine. But Mr. Gold, I feel like I should ask—have you ever owned a cat before?”

Mr. Gold remained in his bent over position, staring at Magpie’s golden green eyes. They glittered in the dark of the carrier. He couldn’t entirely brush away the feeling that he’d once had a cat, perhaps as a child, but he had no real memory of ever having had one. As long as he could remember being in this town, he’d never had a cat. Finally, he answered Dr. French.

“No. I never thought I’d have any kind of pet. Animals—and people too, for that matter—don’t often care for my company. He stood up and made eye contact with the pretty brunette veterinarian he’d never seen before this evening. “But this cat…she’s different. For some inexplicable reason, this creature chose me. And I intend to do whatever I can to make her not regret that choice.”

“That’s very good to hear, Mr. Gold. And cats are good judges of character,” Dr. French remarked. “Now let’s get you both on your way so Magpie can have the remainder of her kittens in peace.”

As they left the exam room, Magpie in tow, Mr. Gold lightly brushed Dr. French on the arm, awkwardly trying to get her attention.

“What do I owe you, Dr. French?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? No, surely I owe you for your time at the very least. You’ve stayed after hours to help me, and I don’t want to take advantage of your good nature.”

“How about instead of money, we make a deal?”

His ears perked up at this suggestion. “What kind of deal?”

“You promise you’ll bring Magpie and all of her kittens into my clinic for their shots, and I won’t charge you for today.”

“I was planning to do that anyway. That can’t be the deal.”

Dr. French tilted her head, thinking for a moment. Then she smiled. “How about this: you call me Belle instead of Dr. French, and let me come round your shop after hours each week to check in on the kittens. I never get to play with kittens here; Levar and Lilo usually hog the few that come in.”

“Belle?”

“Belle,” Dr. French firmly.

“Then you should call me Rum,” Gold insisted. “And you’re welcome at my pawn shop any time. It’s a deal.”

“Mroooow,” came a cry from the carrier.

“You should get her home—er, to the pawn shop. You'll be able to secure the carrier in your car, I hope?”

“Yeah, it should be…damn it.” Right. He hadn’t come here in his car. He wasn’t entirely sure where his car was. Back at Granny’s? He could find it tomorrow; it’s not like the town was too large for him to walk around and find it, but lugging a crowning cat at the same time would make it more than a little difficult.

“What?”

“I came here on foot.”

“Oh…well I can give you a ride if you need,” Dr. Fren—Belle offered. “It’s even on my way—my place is just a block past the pawn shop.”

Not wanting to cause any further delay given Magpie’s condition, Mr. Gold accepted the offer and after Dr. French had locked the door to her clinic, he and Magpie crammed into the backseat of her Honda. Within moments they were parked across the street from the pawn shop. After the cat and her new owner exited and stopped at the door of the pawn shop, Belle started to drive off, but then stopped her car. She rolled down her window.

“Mr. Gold!” she called across the street.

“Rum!”

“Okay, then. Rum.” she corrected herself. “I just want you to know, Rum—I think Magpie chose well.” That said, she drove off. Mr. Gold stared at the white bumper of the car as she drove away.

“Meyow,” Magpie cried from inside the carrier. Was it an agreement? Or was the cat just trying to hurry him up? Maybe both, he thought as he fiddled with the key to the lock.

An hour later, Rum Gold was passed out on the couch in the back of his shop. Over in the corner, inside the largest box he’d been able to find, Magpie rested atop a soft quilt laid over some throw pillows previously for sale in the shop. A couple of large, shiny coins sat within reach of her paws. She licked her two kittens as they slept soundly.


	5. Purrfect Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. French stops by to check in on Magpie and her kittens, and ends up doing a favor for Mr. Gold.

The next day, Magpie still had only the pair of kittens. The first was as black as its mother, save for the tiniest splotch of white on its chest. The second, born in the shop minutes after Mr. Gold had transferred Magpie to the pillow-lined box, was ginger and white, with faint tabby markings showing through the ginger. That kitten reminded Mr. Gold of a creamsicle.

  
Shortly after the shop’s regular Saturday hours began, Gold’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, nor could he fathom why anyone would be calling so early on a Saturday, but he answered nonetheless. Perhaps someone had come by yesterday while the shop had been prematurely closed.

  
“Rum?” It was Dr. French. Belle. She was calling him? “How’s Magpie?” she asked from the other end of the line.

  
Of course. Dr. French was just doing her job, checking on the cat and her kittens. He walked with the phone to the back room.

  
“I think Magpie’s okay,” he said, looking down on the mother and her two fuzzy babies. “She ate a little tuna this morning, but she’s passed most of the time curled up and seeing to her wee ones.”

  
“How many did she end up having?”

  
“Only two. One’s her spitting image, and the other is ginger and white. I have no idea if they’re girls or boys. I haven’t dared pick them up.” He did reach over and stroke the ginger kitten on the head. The kitten opened its little mouth in a yawn, then settled its head atop its sibling. Mr. Gold ran a light finger over the black kitten’s back.

  
“You can, but if you do, return them to Magpie quickly; they need her to regulate their body temperature for the first couple of weeks. I’m glad she had a small litter; it’ll be easier for her if this is her first litter, and you likely won’t end up with a runt you’d need to keep an eye on.”

  
“Ah.”

  
“I need to get started with my patients for the day, but call the clinic if you need help with anything-even if I’m in surgery, Levar or Lilo will be able to help you.”

  
“Thank you so much, Dr., I mean, Belle.”

  
“I can’t wait to come by and see you after hours,” she said. There was an awkward pause. “I mean, to see the kittens. Like we agreed,” she clarified.

  
“A deal’s a deal,” Gold replied.

Belle hung up. On her end of the line, she was face-palming.

  
“What is wrong with me?” she demanded of herself. “He only likes me because I helped him with his cat. Nothing more.” Gold had said himself that he didn’t get on well with other people. And a man who owned half the town would hardly be interested in someone who spent her day getting scratched, castrating pets, and analyzing fecal samples. She’d made the deal hoping to spend more time with him (she knew better, but her lust won that battle in the moment). Now she decided it was futile. He just knew free veterinary care when he saw it, and she’d let herself give it away.

  
It was Saturday, so the clinic would only be open a half day; the afternoon would be spent volunteering her services at the shelter. Dr. French resolved she would catch Mr. Gold at the pawnshop right before closing. She would release him from the deal.

 

*************

  
As the work day began to conclude, Rum Gold faced a conundrum—he had already used the spare change of clothes he kept for emergencies, and he was low on food for himself; at the same time, he didn’t want to leave Magpie and her kittens alone. His large Victorian house wasn’t far, but what if someone broke into the shop? He knew this was the reasoning of a paranoid old man, but he couldn’t help it. The kittens were so wee and defenseless. Magpie wasn’t at 100 percent yet, either. He was already kicking himself for not taking better advantage of the favor he’d called in from Ruby when he’d asked her to bring his car to the pawnshop for him. He should’ve at least asked her to bring him something to eat from the diner. More than that wouldn’t have been a fair trade (he’d only extracted the favor in exchange for not telling Granny that he’d caught Ruby and one of her paramours necking behind the diner once), but it would’ve at least given him another day before he had to run home.

  
The bell on the door tinkled and Dr. Belle French walked in.

  
“Belle!” Gold near-shouted as he looked up. The tightness that had begun to seize him eased at her appearance. Her mere presence was mollifying.

  
“Mr. Gold, I-”

  
“Rum,” he chided her. “I’m so glad to see you. I desperately need to go home to fetch some necessities, but I didn’t want to abandon Magpie so soon. Could I prevail upon you to stay with her and the kittens while I make a quick trip home? And you have to come see the wee ones, they’re perfect.” He motioned for her to follow him to the back room.

  
Belle looked at Mr. Gold as she followed; he wasn’t nearly as frazzled or unkempt as he’d been at her office the day before, but the poor man clearly needed a break. Possibly a shower. And yet…his mussed hair was perfect, and the fit of that rumpled grey suit he wore…the excellent view of his ass…well, that only made Belle aware of how much she wished he was no longer wearing anything.  
She changed her mind about freeing him from their deal.

  
Maybe he wasn’t interested in her, but this would be worth it for the kittens and the eye candy. Her heart almost melted when he led her over to the box where Magpie lay with her kittens. They were so cute, even only day old, when kittens are not exactly at their cutest. Belle so rarely got to see kittens this young, even as a veterinarian; kittens usually didn’t show up at her clinic until they were adoptable and getting shots.

  
“They are perfect,” Belle agreed as she watched them nursing. “Of course I can stay with them if you need, Rum. It’ll give me a chance to get better acquainted.”

  
“Thank you, Belle. You’re a lifesaver twice over now. I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promised. “Do you need anything while I’m gone? I’m afraid I don’t have a TV in the shop, but there is an old boombox if you want to listen to the radio.”

  
Belle held up her purse and pulled a small book out of it. “I have reading material if I need it, but Magpie and the kittens will probably be more than enough entertainment,” she assured him. He nodded, and after running to the front to flip the open sign to closed and lock the front door, he left out the back.

  
***********  
When Rum returned, Belle had news for him. “I’m pretty sure Magpie has a girl and a boy,” she told Gold. “It’s hard to tell when they’re so young, but they’re definitely different.”

  
“Which one’s which?”

  
Belle picked up Magpie’s near carbon-copy. “I’m about 80 percent sure that she’s our girl,” she handed the kitten to Mr. Gold, who held the dark lump very carefully. Dr. French picked up the ginger and white one. “I’m just as sure that he’s our boy. And I might be wrong, but he might end up fluffier than his sister.”

  
“When will you know for sure?” Rum petted the black kitten very carefully as he held her against his chest. She started to cry, and Magpie stood up from where she had been laying moments before.

  
“Couple of weeks. They have to develop a little more. And more ginger cats are boys, so I’m pretty confident I’ve got them right. Let’s give them back to Magpie now, though. She’s getting concerned.” Belle placed her kitten back with Magpie, as did Rumple, and the mother cat began washing their faces and purring.

  
“She’s a good mama,” Rum said proudly. “She won’t let them out of her sight. Even when I fed her earlier, she kept an eye on them.”

  
“I should probably get going,” Belle said. “I don’t want to intrude or bother Magpie too much with the kittens still so young. I still need to pick up dinner before I go home.”

  
“You’re not intruding at all! Far from it,” Gold insisted. He realized that she was probably ready to leave this musty back room and get home to her…did she have a boyfriend? Probably. How could she not? “I’ve taken up too much of your time with my errands, but I hope that this helps make up for it,” he said, picking up the bag he’d walked in with. “I stopped by Granny’s and picked up dinner for both of us. I asked her if you went there often, and she said she’d make your regular for you. I hope that’s alright.”

  
“That’s…that was so kind of you, Mr. Gold.” Belle was truly surprised. He owed her nothing, considering the deal they’d made for her to come see the kittens, and yet, he’d gone to the trouble of not only picking up dinner for her, but making sure it was a dinner she would like.

  
“Rum, remember?”

  
“Right. Thank you, Rum. You didn’t have to get me dinner. I was happy to stay with the kittens for you.” Maybe she did have a shot with him after all.

  
“And that was so kind of you, Belle. I won’t keep you; I’m sure you already have plans for the evening.”

  
There it was—her opening. “What if I said I don’t? It’s not like there’s anyone home waiting on me.”

  
There it was—his opening. Rum Gold didn’t hesitate. “You’d be more than welcome to join me here in the shop. Assuming you don’t mind eating out of the to-go box.”

  
“I don’t mind at all.”

  
“Mrow,” added Magpie, and that settled it.

**Author's Note:**

> (Written based on the following prompt from Who-Are-You-Comrade-Questions: "Belle is a vet, and Gold's cat is in desperate need of a neutering? Or his lady-cat got knocked up and she's in for a check up? I dunno, told you I'm bad at this... but I *do* like the idea of a veterinarian!Belle.")


End file.
